Battle Wounds
by Pineapple Bacardi
Summary: Slash. Arthur could pinpoint all of his moments of fear by the scissoring map of scars on Merlin’s body. Merlin/Arthur.


Arthur could pinpoint all of his moments of fear by the scissoring map of scars on Merlin's body.

The funny thing was, only half of the scars on Merlin's body were battle wounds, perhaps even less. The rest of the scars were just sheer, simple moments of stupidity on Merlin's part. Battle wounds or no battle wounds, Arthur still somehow always felt guilty for the markings on Merlin's body. The scars didn't look right. The scars didn't look like they belonged on the pale, soft skin of the sorcerer. Arthur remembered a time when it wasn't always like this. Once, Merlin's skin was untouched, milky, innocent, and not marred with death. It bothered Arthur more than Merlin ever knew. It bothered Arthur because someone like Merlin shouldn't have that many scars.

Some of the scars were from idiotic accidents, like falling on Arthur's sword or falling down the stairs. Other scars were more complicated. Arthur knew that some scars on Merlin's body still physically pained the sorcerer, those scars were magical, created from dark magic forced upon the good sorcerer. The memories of those scars were almost the worst ones for Arthur. He never knew how to help Merlin when he had been hurt by magic. Magic was a completely different area and it scared the King that he didn't know how to fight it.

Arthur took Merlin's wrist in a gentle grip, his eyes tracing the small scar running down the fragile wrist. It was a long time ago, but Arthur remembered it like it was yesterday. Merlin, the clumsy manservant that he was, had fallen and cut his wrist open on Arthur's sword. Idiotic.

Arthur shook his head and stroke Merlin's arm, kissing his hand. Merlin moaned in his sleep, smacking his lips, tossing around, making Arthur smile. Merlin only had two scars on his face. One was about an inch long; running right through Merlin's left eyebrow, another clumsy stumble episode for Merlin. The other was a few inches longer, and quite thicker, and it ran down Merlin's hairline, scissoring oddly into the sorcerer's hair. Another moment of clumsiness, too long robes and next thing Merlin had been falling down the stairs. Arthur winced as he thought about it, it had taken weeks for Merlin to recover from that, he had even lost his magic from the head-injury, thinking he would never get it back.

Many of the other scars were plain battle wounds, just like Arthur's. Battle wounds that Merlin shouldn't have received in the first place. Arthur had several times ordered Merlin to stay off the battlefields. Merlin had insisted on coming, and Arthur had accepted, as long as Merlin stay away from the battlefields. Somehow, though, Merlin always ended up right by Arthur's side anyway. Arthur couldn't lie, Merlin's magic by his side always made sure victory was on their side, but it didn't always come without a price.

Arthur's hand travelled restlessly down Merlin's back, his thumb rubbing gently at the four-inch long scar that stretched diagonally across Merlin's lower, left back. Merlin's eyelids fluttered and he opens his eyes, smiling slightly. Arthur smiled back and pressed his lips against the sorcerer's naked shoulder, his other hand simmering down Merlin's side.

"What are you doing?" Merlin whispered, his voice quiet with slumber.

Arthur didn't answer at first; he just kept fingering the scar on the sorcerer's back. "Do you remember how you got this?" Arthur's voice was quiet, but there was a certain roughness to it, an edge and it made Merlin frown.

"I remember how I got all of my scars, Arthur," Merlin responded, his voice still weary. "And _you_ do too, so why would you ask?" Arthur exhaled slowly, pressing his face into Merlin's shoulder blade and it made Merlin frown deeper. "Unless you're being nostalgic, and feeling guilty again." Arthur didn't answer and Merlin sighed. "Arthur?"

"You can not control every single thing that happens to me, you know," Merlin whispered, his fingers stroking Arthur's hair lightly.

A dark chuckle escaped from Arthur's throat and he leaned back, looking intently into Merlin's eyes. "It's funny, because I'm the King of Camelot and you're the Court Sorcerer, still you have more scars than I do. That's not right. The Court Sorcerer shouldn't have more scars than the King." Arthur looked away, something like pain flashing across his face.

Merlin gave a small snorting laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. Of course no one else but you would be upset over a thing like that."

Arthur glared at him. "Don't be an idiot, Merlin. You know that's not what I mean."

Merlin smiled softly, leaned over and claimed Arthur's lips, sighing into his mouth. Arthur's hand left Merlin's back to instead cup his cheek. Arthur moaned into Merlin's mouth and Merlin pulled back, breathing against Arthur's mouth. Arthur groaned at the loss and roughly reclaimed Merlin's lips, pushing his tongue inside, savouring the sweet taste of Merlin. Arthur pressed Merlin down against the pillows, rolling his hips against Merlin's intoxicatingly making Merlin moan.

"Cheater," Merlin moaned as Arthur tugged at Merlin's lower lip, biting and nuzzling along the sorcerer's young.

Arthur just grinned devilishly and pulled back, leaning his forehead against Merlin's.

"You shouldn't think so much about things like that, you'll get wrinkles," Merlin whispered, kissing the small lines around Arthur's tired eyes.

Arthur smiled sadly. "You were wearing those lilac robes I got for you for the Knights' Banquet, do you remember?" Merlin pulled back, his hands gripping Arthur arms firmly, his face falling. "You hated them, but I had gotten them for you, so you suffered in silence and wore them." Arthur laughed darkly, his hands stroking down Merlin's back, finding the scar with his fingers. "You didn't even want to go to the banquet, you just wanted to stay in your chambers and read." Arthur smiled gently again, the memories of that night rushing back to him like a tidal wave. "I would have none of it."

"You were always incredibly stubborn," Merlin whispered, his eyes downcast, his forehead leaning against Arthur's bare shoulder, breathing slowly. "All those damn robes you bought, I hated them. But I came down to the banquet."

"You came down to the banquet," Arthur nodded. "Only after I told you that Lancelot would take it as a personal insult if you didn't come," Merlin snorted in laughter at that. "I wish… I wish I could take it back, I wish I would've let you stay in your chambers if you wanted to," Arthur's voice was tormented, his eyes going black. "I didn't even see the servant, I didn't even see that he had a knife…"

Merlin gripped Arthur's shoulder tighter, forcing him to look at the sorcerer. "Hey, Arthur, don't do this to yourself, all right? If I hadn't been there who knows what could've happened? You would probably be dead and Albion would be in chaos." Merlin pressed a feather-light kiss against Arthur's eyebrow. "I couldn't allow that to happen."

Arthur shook his head, his eyes dark with disbelief. "You've got to stop doing this… You can't throw yourself in front of harm's way like that just to save my life. It's idiotic and stupid and you shouldn't do it."

Merlin smirked and pressed his lips against Arthur's once, twice. "That's not nearly a good enough reason to stop, just so you know." Merlin's hand danced across Arthur's naked chest, going lower and lower. Arthur moaned.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Now who's the cheater?"

Merlin smirked again. "I'm just beating you at your own game," Merlin whispered, his voice suggestive. "I learned from the master after all."

"You're avoiding the subject that's what you're doing," Arthur replied matter-of-factly, grabbing Merlin's wrists and pinning them down. "I've told you a hundred times…"

Merlin groaned in irritation. "That if I ever lay down my life for yours again you will never forgive me, still every time you do. And don't even pull the King-card on me again."

"Hm," Arthur muttered and cocked his head. "You've got some attitude going for you this very late night."

"Or _early _morning, depending on how you look at it," Merlin grinned and struggled slightly against Arthur's grip. "Besides, the attitude? Comes with the age."

Arthur just rolled his eyes and leaned down, pressing his lips down against Merlin's, tugging at Merlin's lip until Merlin gave in with a gasp and opened up for him. Arthur forced Merlin's thighs apart roughly and settled between them, rubbing against Merlin, loving every single whimper and gasp that came from Merlin's mouth, swallowing every single sound like it was oxygen. They kissed frantically, grasping at each other, their hands everywhere, touching desperately.

"I'm serious though," Arthur pulled back, breathless. "I don't want to see another scar on this body, have I made myself clear?"

"You don't look that serious when you're about t0 come undone, you know," Merlin whispered back, his voice breathy and he arched hard against Arthur.

Arthur moaned loudly, his eyes fluttering shut, but he pressed himself down on Merlin. "Merlin," his voice was low, husky and raw. Arthur opened his eyes and something about the naked vulnerability in the King's eyes made something clench inside Merlin. "Merlin, please, stop putting me through situations where I am not sure if I'll ever see you again."

Merlin choked and kissed Arthur forcefully, trying to ignore the growing lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Merlin whispered frantically against Arthur's mouth and for a moment it felt like enough. They lost themselves in each other and for a moment, just a moment, Arthur forgot to remember.

Hours later, however, when Merlin was slumbering in his arms, Arthur once against started tracing the scars on Merlin's back with his fingers, his face wearing an anxious frown. It was just something Arthur always did, he just couldn't help himself.

_I'm loving more than I should, so much more than what is good for me._


End file.
